


Stuff About Things

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, Ficlet, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian doesn't want to know, okay? Except maybe he does. A little. BUT NOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuff About Things

Deniz comes home at five past seven in the morning, dumps his backpack on the couch and pounces the breakfast table, practically inhaling a slice of bread with jam and asking between mouthfuls, “Ish thar a’more coughee?”

Marian frowns at him over the top of his paper, taking in his still-wet hair and his generally scrubbed appearance. Just above the open collar of his shirt, there’s a small, round shape on his neck: the unmistakable dark red blot of a hickey. Marian suppresses a quick flare of anger and drags his eyes away from it with difficulty. “First of all: _Günaydın, çocuk_. Second of all: I speak two languages fluently, and I’m fairly sure what you just said wasn’t either of them. What?”

Deniz gulps down his mouthful, clears his throat. “Good morning, _babacığım_ ,” he says dutifully – with minimum eye-rolling, even. “I asked if there’s any more coffee.”

Marian nods towards the pot on the counter. “Help yourself.” He buries his face in the sports pages again while his son busies himself with the coffee, but he can’t quite resist the opportunity to get a dig in.

“I’m surprised you came home before school at all. Is there no breakfast at Roman’s?” _Breakfast in bed_ , he almost adds, but he drowns the words in a sip of coffee before they can come out. Behind him, Deniz’s motions still for a second; then he returns, steaming mug in hand, to sprawl in his chair once more.

“Roman had an early training session. And I forgot to bring some of my books.” He runs a hand through his damp hair and actually smiles at his father, looking so carefree and blatantly blissful that Marian has to fight the urge to box him about the ears.

Instead, he makes a non-committal noise and picks up the bread basket by his left elbow. “Chocolate croissant?” he offers. Deniz nods enthusiastically and grabs two.

Marian snorts. “You seem to have worked up quite an appetite.”

Deniz freezes for a second, a croissant halfway to his mouth. He blushes but doesn’t respond, and Marian adds quickly, “So…how are things with Roman?”

Deniz frowns a little. “Uhm… fine. He had a check-up on his knee yesterday, and Dr. Sauer said-“

“No, I mean,” Marian interrupts rudely. “How are _things_? Between you two?”

The confused line between his son’s brows deepens. “They’re fine, Dad. What are you-“

Then his eyes widen and he blinks at Marian rapidly, mouth hanging slightly open. “Dad… are you asking me... about _things_?”

“Yes!” Marian says, a little too loudly. He waves his hand in the general direction of the hickey on Deniz’s neck. “Things, I’m asking about things! How are things!”

Deniz’s mouth is twitching. It looks as if it doesn’t quite know whether it wants to be a twitch of amusement or abject horror. “Uh… they’re great, Dad. Really great.” He’s blushing again, a dark shade of pink that reminds Marian of his ex-wife, who seems to have bequeathed no visible traits to their son other than her fair complexion and her frequent tendency to blush. “Can we-“

“I hope you’re being careful,” Marian interrupts, reaching over to the counter top for a pen to do the crossword with.

“If you mean are we being safe, Dad, the answer is yes,” Deniz says, a little defensively. He coughs, grins a tiny grin. “Roman’s got _stashes_ of condoms.”

“Why do none of these pens work?” Marian demands loudly as he tests the third one in a row. The tip scratches dryly across the newspaper, almost tearing it.

“Some have got flavours.”

“Really crap quality!” Marian huffs. The fourth pen finally works, even if it is purple. He bends over his crossword.

“He’s got other stuff, too,” Deniz says cheerfully, munching on his croissant.

Marian mutters a curse under his breath and does his best to pretend he didn’t hear. _Stuff_. What is _stuff_? “What’s another word for ‘diligent’?”

“Uhm. No idea.” Deniz reaches past him for the fruit bowl and snatches a banana. “‘Industrious’?”

“That’s too long. Are you. Erm.” Marian stares intently at the small black and quite squares. “You’re being… I mean, you’re not letting him do anything to you… that you don’t want, right?”

He’s not looking but he can practically feel his son’s scowl. “Of course not!” Deniz says indignantly.

Marian breathes a small sigh of relief.

“I like everything he does,” Deniz adds innocently. The tip of Marian’s pen slashes across the crossword in a sudden, violent streak of purple. Against his will, his head jerks up. His son is sitting across from him with the peeled banana in hand, mouth wrapped casually around the tip. His cheeks hollow as he slides his lips down a bit and takes a bite. He’s not even looking guilty. Marian pushes his chair back so abruptly that it almost topples to the ground, and dashes for the coffee pot, paper in hand. There’s only a little bit of coffee left, but he busies himself noisily with it, pouring it into his mug, swirling it around, taking a sip. He’s still clutching his crossword like a lifesaver, staring down at the cues with strained concentration.

“What’s another word for ‘pedantic’!” he demands, much too loudly.

“’Anal’,” suggests Deniz dutifully. Marian could’ve sworn his son didn’t know the meaning of deadpan. “And before you ask, yes, Dad, we do that too, and it’s awesome, okay?”

There’s a part of Marian that’s desperately wishing he hadn’t got up today; that he’d just kept Nadja from going to work and tied her to the bed to spend the entire morning having mad, passionate sex. Normal sex. That doesn’t involve words like “anal”. Far, far away from the breakfast table, or at least safely separated from it by a closed door.

And then there’s another part that is horrifyingly, perversely curious. And appallingly enough, it appears like that part currently has control of his mouth. “How can you do that, Deniz? I mean, the very thought… how can you let him do that to you? Isn’t it… I don’t know, weird? Doesn’t it hurt?”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Deniz put down his half-eaten banana and lean back. “Er. First of all, he doesn’t just do it to me, Dad. It goes both ways, you know.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know, actually. Unsure whether to feel repulsed or impressed at the thought, Marian settles for cautiously relieved. At least that cocky little bastard has to bend over, too.

Deniz is staring at his plate, pushing his second chocolate croissant round in little circles. “Second of all, it doesn’t feel weird. It feels really good.” A pause, a defiant stare. “ _Really_ good.”

 _Oh god._ Marian clutches the paper so hard that it crumples in his grip. “Maybe we shouldn’t-“ he starts, but Deniz is already talking over him.

“And third of all, no, it doesn’t usually hurt – not if you, uhm, prepare and stuff.”

“Prepare,” Marian hears himself saying faintly. Why is he still saying things?

Deniz nods. He’s flushed from neck to hairline, but he’s smirking, too. He should have drowned him at birth, Marian thinks. “You know, with lube and, uhm, fingers. Or tongues,” Deniz adds brightly, and that’s when something inside Marian snaps. He sets his mug down so hard that the last dregs of coffee splash up, spilling on the counter.

“Could we not have this conversation at the breakfast table?! I just ate!”

Deniz stares at him, a bemused expression on his still-red face. “Dad, you asked.”

“I did not-“

“You did too, you said you were asking about _things_ , and then you did.”

Marian slaps his paper down on the table, giving up on the damn crossword. He’s going to have to give up crosswords for good now, anyway. And bananas. And croissants. Possibly even coffee. “Well, I changed my mind, okay!”

“Okay,” Deniz says amiably enough, finishing off his second chocolate croissant. There’s a big smear of chocolate from the corner of his mouth halfway down his chin. Marian dearly hopes he’ll go through half the school day like that before someone is merciful enough to point it out. “Just saying, if you’ve got any questions-“

“Dammit, I don’t!”

“I’m sure Roman would be happy to explain too. He’s better at explaining stuff…”

“Go. To. School.”

“He’s really great at giving instructions, too.”

The rolled-up paper just barely misses Deniz as he runs for the door.


End file.
